Patient File: Amelia Pond
by ShiftyEyesAndAnEvilSmile
Summary: Amelia's loss of faith as viewed through the eyes of a child psychologist.


**A.N.- I wrote this for a class at school, and I guess I liked it. One hell of an assignment- essentially telling us to write fanfic. Yes please! **

**Disclaimer- I own nothing. Seriously, I have about 5 dollars to my name.**

Amelia Pond was never like the other girls. For one, she didn't think boys had cooties. In fact, she found the company of Rory quite pleasant and they spent a large amount of time together. For another, she had retained her imaginary friend far beyond the age which would be considered a natural part of child development. That was what prompted her aunt to call me to their house one day, to act as the child's psychologist.

As soon as I knocked on the door, I knew something was amiss. When a little girl with bright red hair opened the door, she stared up at me expectantly. Clearing my throat, I ask her, "Where are your parents? Might I be able to speak with them?"

Her answer was quite blatant, and surprised me. "I don't have any parents," the young Amelia stated, "all I have is an aunt, and she isn't here right now."

I know that I showed up at the right time in the right place, and a thought crosses my mind that perhaps her aunt merely wanted to use me as a babysitter. Then I remember how her aunt had described in great details the plague that ailed the child, and I'm intrigued once more.

"Amelia," I say, "Might you show me into your house?"

The girl does as she is asked, but I wonder why she isn't more wary of me. After all, if a middle-aged man showed up to almost any little girls house and requested entry, they would have a door slammed in their face rather immediately. Amelia did nothing of the sort, and let me into the house without a word.

"Your aunt sent for me," I clarify for the child. I receive only a silent nod in response. "Might you have a place where we could sit?" I request of young Amelia.

Silently, she shows me into the living area. I take a seat on an overstuffed chair across from the sofa where she sits. "Hello Amelia," I repeat, "your aunt sent for me. I'm a psychologist, do you know what that is?"

She nods, "Yes, and you aren't the first." She seems to be resentful of that fact, which I note.

"What happened to the other ones, Amelia?" I ask her, genuinely curious as to see my fate.

"I bit them," she replies in the simple manner that only a child could possibly achieve, "because they told me the Doctor wasn't real."

Ah, yes. There it was, the reason why her aunt called me, so desperate for help. The Doctor, Amelia's imaginary friend conceived in her younger childhood. Now eight years of age, and she still holds onto this delusion. It is concerning, to say the least, and her aunt was right to try and get the girl professional help.

"Now Amelia, can you tell me about the Doctor?"

10 June, 1997

Amelia seems to be quite resentful of the fact that her aunt keeps asking psychologists to evaluate her. She is quiet, though when she does speak, it is bold. She tells me she bit the other psychologists because they told her that the Doctor wasn't real, a story which her aunt later confirmed for me. There is some aspect of her that refuses to let go of childhood's folly. I must make sure to not deny her the comfort of her imaginary friend initially, lest I end up like the other psychologists who have seen the girl.

26 June, 1997

My second visit with the Young Amelia went quite smoothly. I asked her to tell me her favorite memory of the doctor. She begins to tell me a carefully constructed tale of him showing up one night to fix a crack in her wall. Together, she said, they went through all the food in the kitchen. This only reaffirms my idea that the Doctor is, indeed, a character she had made up in her head. I have yet to tell her this though.

17 July, 1997

During my third visit with Amelia, I asked her to show me what the doctor looks like. She ran up to her bedroom returning with a doll and an odd police box. She explained to me that the doll was the doctor, and the police box was his spaceship. It's much bigger on the inside, she explains to me. I wonder why Amelia does not see any flaws in her logic. Is she so delusional the her dreams have become her reality?

02 August, 1997

Amelia's aunt asked me to hurry with these sessions, as the girl starts school soon and her aunt would rather she not be talking about the Doctor all the time. On my fourth visit with Amelia, she told me how she knew the Doctor was coming back. She said that he promised, and he would never go back on his promise. I have begun to hint to Amelia that the Doctor is only part of her imagination.

29 August, 1997

At the prompting of her Aunt, I attempt to use logic in order to convince Amelia that the Doctor is merely a figment of her imagination. She bites me.

-09 September, 1997

I decided to return despite the incident at our previous session. She apologizes to me after a stern look from her aunt. _The Doctor liked the name Amelia_, she said, _he said it was like a fairy tale name_. I looked at her questioningly. Why would she choose to bring that up now? _I'm Amy now_, she states firmly, _not Amelia_.

**Note: This was the last session I had with Amelia. A.N.- This is kind of short, but I think I like it. Until next time, shiftyeyesandanevilsmile**


End file.
